


At The Playground

by Small_Hobbit



Series: River Police [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: A phone call from Stanley Hopkins has Sherlock rushing to his aid.





	At The Playground

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ/DW Fan Flashworks Amnesty Challenge 'Family' prompt

“Stanley, where are you?  What’s happened?  Do I need to go straight to the vet’s?”  
  
John Watson looked up as he heard Sherlock firing off questions into his phone.  He watched him struggling one-handed into his coat, whilst with the other he held his phone to his ear.  “Has Stanley been hurt?” John asked.  
  
“No, of course not.  There’s no sound of pain in his voice,” Sherlock replied, before saying into the phone, “Tell me where you are.  I can work it out, but it’ll be quicker if you tell me.”  There was a pause, before Sherlock added, “Of course you need me.  We’re on our way.”  
  
John watched as Sherlock slipped the phone in his pocket and then listened in confusion as he said, “John, what are you waiting for?  We need to go now.”  
  
John stood up and grabbed his coat.  “Where are we going?”  
  
“No time.  I’ll explain on the way.”  
  
John ran down the stairs after Sherlock, who then dashed across the road hailing a taxi as he did so.  John followed him, trying to avoid the traffic which had inevitably not been there when Sherlock crossed.  
  
Once in the taxi, John said, “You’re sure Stanley’s not hurt?  What about the vet?”  
  
“John, really.  You’re a doctor, you should know Stanley wouldn’t go to a vet if he was hurt.”  
  
“They were two separate questions.  If it isn’t Stanley who’s hurt, then it must be Tilly.  I can’t think of any other reason we should be flying across London to come to his aid.”  
  
“He’s at a playground.  Which means he must have children with him.  Stanley isn’t used to children, but you are.”  
  
“What do you mean, I am?”  
  
“You’re a doctor, you’re always complaining about children with coughs and colds and things.”  
  
“I see sick children.  They come in with a carer of some sort.  And they leave with them as well.  I don’t have them on their own.  Whose children are they?”  
  
“As Stanley didn’t mention social services, I presume they have not come to him at work.  If they were the children of a neighbour, he would stay with them at their house until relief arrived.  Therefore they must be family.”  
  
“Perhaps he arranged to look after them this afternoon.  It’s not unheard of for family members to help each other out.  Not every family is like yours, or mine.”  
  
“Really, John, were you not listening when Stanley said he wouldn’t be able to meet me after all?  That, even to you, must indicate it was unplanned.”  
  
“Strangely enough, since Stanley rang _you_ , and spoke to _you_ , I didn’t hear any of his side of the conversation.”  
  
“Mere incidentals.  Anyway, no more time for idle chatter, we’re here!”  
  
They got out of the taxi, and made their way to the playground.  John had to admit Stanley looked rather hassled.  He was pushing a little girl on a swing, whilst a slightly bigger boy stood impatiently by his side.  
  
Sherlock strode over to Stanley and said to the boy, “I bet you want to go on the climbing frame.  This is John, he’s going to go with you.”  
  
“I am?”  John muttered.  
  
“You are!”  
  
The boy bounded over the climbing frame and launched himself at it, with John trailing behind.  
  
The swing slowed down and the little girl began to chant, “Again, again!”  
  
“Here, I’ll push,” Sherlock said.  
  
“Don’t let her go too high,” Stanley said.  
  
“She can’t fall out.  And she’d need to assist with the propulsion to get herself high enough for that.  As yet she doesn’t seem to have learnt how to do so.”  
  
“Even so.”  
  
Sherlock snorted.  “So whose children are they?  No particular family resemblance, but clearly you feel an obligation to them.”  
  
The little girl answered, “Nanny fell over, so Mummy’s taking her to the hospital and Uncle Stanley’s looking after us.  He’s a policeman.”  
  
“And a very good policeman, too.”  Sherlock pushed the swing again and a woman standing nearby tutted as the girl went higher.  Sherlock ignored her and continued, “Uncle.  More of an honorary title for a male relative.”  
  
“They’re my cousin’s children,” Stanley explained.  “His wife brought Thomas and Ruby up to London for the day, with her mother.  The mother tripped, fell and gave herself a nasty cut over the nose.  Ellie got in touch with me to see if I could look after the children while she went to the hospital with her mother.”  
  
At that moment they heard the chimes of an ice cream van, and shortly afterwards the van drew up at the side of the playground.  Thomas came running back, John once more following in his wake.  
  
“Uncle Stanley, Uncle Stanley, can we have an ice cream?” Thomas called.  
  
“Well …” Stanley began.  
  
“An excellent idea, we’ll all have an ice cream,” Sherlock replied.  
  
They bought ice creams and sat on a bench to eat them.  As they were doing so, Stanley’s phone rang.  He listened to the caller and then said, “That was your mummy.  Nanny’s been patched up and they’re on their way back.”  
  
“How long?” Ruby asked.  
  
“Not too long,” Sherlock answered brightly.  “Just long enough to feed the ducks.”  
  
“How?” John muttered.  
  
Sherlock pointed.  “Burger van.  Go and buy a couple of burger buns.  No onions!  Oh, and leave the wet wipes, we’re going to need them.”  
  
John pulled the packet of wet wipes, which he’d taken to carrying, out of his pocket.  Long experience of being out with Sherlock had taught him there was always something to wipe off, be it mud, blood, or in this case, ice cream.  
  
They made their way to the lake and John joined them with the bread.   
  
After a while Ruby said, “Will Mummy be here soon?”  
  
Sherlock looked up and said, “Look, over there, is that your Mummy?”  
  
“Yes!”  Ruby was about to run towards them when Stanley took her hand.  
  
“Wave to them, so they can see us,” he said.  “I expect Nanny would like to sit down when she gets here.”  
  
“How did you know that was Mummy?” Thomas asked.  “You’ve never met her.”  
  
“A very sensible question,” Sherlock answered.  “There were two ladies, one older than the other.  And the older one has a large dressing over her nose, which ties in with the injury she sustained.  It’s important to observe things like this for when you grow up to be a policeman like Uncle Stanley.”  
  
Stanley was prevented from commenting by the arrival of the two ladies.  Ellie thanked them for taking care of the children, and, once Stanley had assured himself the family would be all right by themselves, they took their leave.  
  
As they walked back across the park, John said, “Right, I’ll leave you two to enjoy yourselves however you see fit.”  
  
“Let me buy you a pint to say thank you for coming over,” Stanley said.  “The King’s Head round the corner does a good pint, and shouldn’t be too busy.”  
  
“I wouldn’t say no, but I don’t want to get in your way.”  
  
“We’ve got the rest of the day.  And I wouldn’t mind a pint either.  I feel like I’ve earned one.”  
  
“The King’s Head it is, then,” Sherlock agreed.


End file.
